


Do I wanna know? (Pull me in)

by ElsaFH (Elsa0806)



Series: Colliding universes [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Drinking, Fluff, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Songfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, universe metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:13:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24101125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsa0806/pseuds/ElsaFH
Summary: There’re a lot of things Atsumu wants to say, and Hinata’s right: some of them sound better in the dark while being pulled in, with the support of the knowledge he has yearned for ever since they found each other again.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Series: Colliding universes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752697
Comments: 18
Kudos: 120





	Do I wanna know? (Pull me in)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! Eli here with yet a new AtsuHina one-shot. I'm so deep into this ship... I think I need help.
> 
> Anyway this idea came to me while I was laying around, doing nothing while the assignments pile up in the Google Classroom. Lemme tell y'all, online classes are positively kicking my ass.
> 
> The song I used for this one-shot is [Do I Wanna Know?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpOSxM0rNPM) by the Arctic Monkeys.
> 
> Also, I apologize for all the universe metaphors. I'm not really sorry tbh but I felt I owe y'all an apology (?)
> 
> See you at the end notes!

Hinata is a solar system. His soul is the sun and the freckles dusting his cheeks, the curve of his shoulders and his knuckles like constellations orbit around this gravity centre at full speed, a speed Atsumu can’t really catch up to, but he realizes it doesn’t really matter. Being a solar system in himself, orbiting around his own existence, makes him something unreachable, out of his grasp like the stars that shine bright against the dark velvety sky like fireflies walking slowly, almost unnoticed, on the wall of a cavern lost in time. It’s exhilarating and it leaves him breathless, hypnotized by the beauty of this teeny tiny universe walking at his side.

Hinata is a solar system, and his desires, his deepest secrets, and the quirks that form his personality are the planets that orbit around his soul. They move at full speed too, too fast for Atsumu to get the hang of them, but he realizes it doesn’t matter and it will never do because he’s content with only being able to gaze at the starry night that Shouyou is sometimes. Sometimes, though, he needs to look away. Sometimes, Shouyou shines too bright for him to handle it, the literal sun aflame in some metaphorical part of his being reaching way too far for him to be able to run away. He doesn’t want to either, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s unable to bear all the energy that buzzes through him, snapping like electricity in the air hanging around him.

Hinata’s pinky grazes lightly against his and Atsumu jumps on his spot, startled. There’s a thread of apologies falling from his personal solar system’s mouth, words that move as fast as the constellations around their gravity center, and Atsumu would complain if he couldn’t see the blush dusting his cheeks. It’s like an eclipse, he thinks, and the duality of day and night inside of Hinata never ceases to amaze him, because it looks like the sun is being covered by the moon that is his shame, and Atsumu can’t help to think it’s because of him.

“No need to apologize,” he says, smiling to put a halt to the almost unstoppable blabbering coming out of Hinata’s mouth. There’re a few syllables lost in the air, sounds so frantic he can’t catch them, and he suddenly wonders how stopping time would feel. Would he be able to catch up to Hinata’s full speed? Even if he had the ability to stop time, he’s not sure about wanting to stop his speed. “It was an accident, right?”

He laughs, breathy and raspy, coughing in the middle of it as if to clear his throat. The stardust that is his blush spreads its fingers through his face, caresses the highest point of his cheekbones, and slides slowly towards his ears, painting them a deep red that almost shines. It hangs from the angle of his chin and lets go on a free fall that ends with it brushing through the skin of his neck, disappearing under the hem of his button-up shirt.

“Of course.”

_Have you got color in your cheeks?_

_Do you ever get the fear that you can’t shift_

_The type that sticks around like summat in your teeth?_

Atsumu looks at him through the corner of his eyes, tries not to read too much into the blush that’s still covering the constellations of his freckles. Tries not to think it’s because of him, because he really doesn’t know if he’s ready for that scenario just yet. In fact, he thinks he’ll never be ready for a reality in which Hinata feels the same way as he does.

Hinata is a solar system. He orbits around himself and he doesn’t seem to need anyone else inside the field of stars that is his existence, there’s no need for a new planet orbiting the sun that is his soul, and Atsumu understands. He gets it. There’s a fragile equilibrium in everything he is, something he’s polished through years and years of personal development. He’s been harvesting the products of everything he’s planted ever since he was a kid. One tiny thing could change everything for the worse and Atsumu can’t even fathom _him_ being the little pebble that tilts the balance.

But still… does he wanna know?

Hinata rubs the edge of his shirt against his mouth to dry the sweat embedded like diamonds on the skin above his upper lip. The sun erases the traces of dewdrops left after the dawn and gets ready for another toss, smiles at him from his corner of the court. The supernovas that are his eyes seem to pull him in, and suddenly Hinata is not a solar system anymore; he’s a mermaid, scales shining brightly under the golden light of the sun, singing from afar to guide him to his death.

Does he wanna walk to his death? Would he let the supernovas of his eyes drag him into nothingness? It feels almost too tempting to resist and the pleasures that seem to lie in the vortex of his eyes themselves sound like dirty promises being whispered into his ears by a velvety voice that can only belong to Hinata.

The solar system spikes Atsumu’s toss, hollers when the ball smashes against the opposite corner of the court. Claps him friendly and playfully on the shoulder, congratulates him for yet another amazing toss.

“I can’t believe I got myself a setter like you to toss for me, Atsumu-san.”

Atsumu blushes and coughs to hide the fact that his bloodstream seems to have a direct connection with Hinata’s praises. He’s never blushed when someone praises his tosses because he knows how _good_ they are. He doesn’t need someone else to tell him that he’s a high-level setter, one of the best in Japan. But Hinata seems to bypass every single idea he has about himself and break down every wall he’s ever built around the core of his personality because deep down, very deep down, Atsumu is a mess of insecurities and anxiety. They’re heavy, heavier than anything he’s ever carried on his back, and maybe that’s why he’s so pulled in by Hinata’s gravity centre. In a scale of the heaviest objects existing, he wonders if his insecurities and his anxiety are very much like a black hole.

Would that mean he’s got a gravity centre too? Does it pull Hinata in like his pulls Atsumu in?

_Are there some aces up your sleeve?_

_Have you no idea that you’re in deep?_

“Yer good, ‘s all,” Atsumu says, smiling at him. It doesn’t matter if Hinata can see the blush on his cheeks, doesn’t really matter if he thinks more of it. He can blame it on the practice match. “Ya deserve a good setter.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Hinata answers, and there’s a glint in his eyes that takes Atsumu’s breath away. The supernovas become black holes and steal everything from him, and he feels like he’s only mere seconds away from being sucked in completely. Atsumu blinks to get rid of the feeling, tries to cut the thread that connects the core of his being to the vacuum-like feeling Hinata’s eyes evoke in him, “but I don’t think there’s anyone better than you.”

He laughs, wholeheartedly, an edge of disbelief sliding under his tone.

“Fer real?”

“Of course!”

That, Atsumu thinks, feels like his default answer to all the questions he doesn’t know how to answer. He’s not lying; he is indeed telling the truth, but something inside of Atsumu prickles, moves, _crawls_ , telling him Hinata’s not saying even half of the truth that lies within. For the first time ever since he met him, Atsumu wants to be the pebble that tilts the delicate balance of his life. He wants to know. He really, _really_ wants to know.

“’m glad ya think so.”

Hinata smiles. The solar system in front of him shines brighter than everything he’s ever seen, and his gravity seems to reach out to him, attracting him like a magnet. He’s fire and ashes and iridescence and Atsumu’s nothing but a weak moth, _oh-so-very-light_ and powerless. There is no escape route for him, even if he tried to find one. Because being pulled in by Hinata’s gravity centre feels like falling, and being in love is exactly that, isn’t it? Falling.

_I dreamt about you nearly every night this week_

_How many secrets can you keep?_

_‘Cause there’s this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat_

_Until I fall asleep_

_Spilling drinks on my settee_

Atsumu dreams of Hinata. Dreams of the tip of his fingers grazing against the skin of his exposed chest, leaving traces of fire behind, aflame on sweat-covered skin that feels scalding hot against his nerve endings. Dreams of his breath ghosting over the vein of his neck, the feeling of the warm, dampen air tickling against his pulse-point like feathers and velvet. Dreams of his voice calling out to him, and he’s once again a mermaid guiding him to his death and Atsumu wants nothing but to give in to the temptation. And so he does; he lets him map every curve and angle of his body, lets his mouth mark him to be only his. Writhes under the attention and dreams of Hinata giving him even more, giving him the privilege of returning the favour by mapping his white skin with his mouth. There’s some sort of hidden pleasure behind being able to do that, of being able to mark him to be his, too. Because Hinata writhes, whines, and whimpers under his touch, under his mouth, moans when Atsumu’s hot breath brushes against the inside of his thighs.

Atsumu dreams. Dreams of Hinata enveloping him in an embrace that would push the air out of his body if this was the reality. Dreams of his legs holding him in place, hugging his waist to never let him go, and Atsumu is only a man who’s finally given in to the pull of Hinata’s gravity centre. He dreams and it’s almost too real to believe it’s just an oneiric fantasy because the sounds falling from Hinata’s lips seem to fall from the real Hinata’s mouth, and he knows he’ll regret this in the morning, knows that dreams can be torture when they don’t become true.

But he dreams nonetheless because this is the only way he can give in to the gravity of Hinata’s sun. It doesn’t really bother him anymore, even when the real Hinata greets him in the morning before their daily training session. Atsumu’s way beyond blushing after those dreams, because they’ve become his only escape route to everything he wants but knows he can’t have. He should really know by now that his chances are equal to cero, but he can’t help it. He survives on dreams only because in them, Hinata gives in to the pull of Atsumu’s gravity centre too.

_Do I wanna know?_

_If this feeling flows both ways?_

Does he wanna know? Is he ready for that scenario where Hinata reciprocates his feelings? That scenario where he yearns for Atsumu’s touch as much as Atsumu does for his, but he’s not sure his heart can handle the moment when reality comes crashing down on him to yell at him how much of a stupid he is for having believed in the squalid chances he might have.

Hinata closes the door of his locker and rolls his shoulders to get rid of a stiffness Atsumu knows too well. He probably spent too much time in bed, trying to fall asleep and not accomplishing his self-imposed mission. He’s been there, he’s done that. He’s been in that uncomfortable situation ever since Hinata popped up in his life again after years of not seeing each other, speaking with an accent he couldn’t quite get rid of and so tanned the constellations dusting his skin looked ablaze. If felt as if he’d burn to ashes if he touched him, and somehow he was right; he didn’t burn to the ground literally, but he did metaphorically.

“Rough night?” he asks, laughing quietly to himself.

Hinata startles, looks at him like he’s never seen him before, and _blushes_ to the tip of his ears. Tries to clears his throat, swallowing something that sounds like a lump in his throat and attempts to put on his shirt quickly as if to shield himself of something Atsumu can’t see.

His hair is dishevelled, and Atsumu wonders if that’s how he looks when he gets out of bed. He knows this new image will only fuel the fantasies that flourish in his mind when he tries to sleep, but he does nothing to stop it from nesting in his brain, connecting to other images that have turned into fantasies way before that one came.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Too many things on yer head?”

Hinata blinks, looks at him from head to toe, then blushes a little bit more.

“Kinda.”

Does he wanna know?

_Sad to see you go_

_Was sort of hoping that you’d stay_

_Baby we both know_

_That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day_

He wakes up to his phone ringing annoyingly, echoing through the emptiness of his apartment. Atsumu curses himself and belittles his intellect for not being smart enough to bring it with him when he went to bed. It’s three in the morning and he wants to go back to sleep, but something pushes him out of his comfortable cocoon of sheets, makes the burning need of go and answer the call blossom in his chest.

He paddles through his apartment, a string of curses falling from his lips and swirling through the air while he moves in the dark. In his half-asleep state, he can almost see the color of the syllables and almost taste the shape of the phonemes weighing on his taste buds. He also seems to see the shape of the sound coming out of his phone, rising, crashing like a tidal-wave against him, finally shaking him awake with one last beep before the room fills with silence once again.

“Motherfuckin’—”

His phone goes off again, startles him in the darkness of the living room. He launches forward, grasps the damn thing between his fingers, and finally slides the icon to answer the call on the screen. Pressing the phone against his ear, without having seen the contact name, he breathes a ragged “hello”.

_“Atsumu-san!”_

_Crawling back to you_

_Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few?_

_‘Cause I always do_

_Is he drunk?_

“Shouyou-kun?”

_“Atsumu-san!”_

There’s a giggle through the line, crackling with the static of the phone call. The sound bubbles up and rises, unfolds in front of Atsumu like an origami. His knees tremble underneath the weight of his body and he uses every ounce of willpower he has to move from the table where his phone rested until a few minutes ago and drag his ass towards the couch. He flops down on the cushions, exhales the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Ya need somethin’?”

Shouyou giggles again. The sound sends shivers down his spine; his voice feels too close for comfort and Atsumu tries not to crumble under the sensorial overcharge that crashes against him.

 _“Actually,_ yes _,”_ he says, sounding pensive. _“I might or might not be too drunk to know where I am.”_

Is this a test? What is Atsumu supposed to do in a situation like _this_? He’s just a man, just a human that tries to hold back from giving in to the gravity that pulls him in towards Hinata.

“Want me to pick ya up?”

 _“Would you do that?”_ he lets out, surprised. _“Really?”_

“That’s why yer callin’, ain’t it?”

 _“Not really,”_ he answers, matter-of-factly. _“I just wanted to hear your voice.”_

_Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new_

_Now I’ve thought it through_

_Crawling back to you_

Does he wanna know? Does he _really need_ to know? A part of his brain tells him he’s being stupid for holding back from everything he wants to know and to do. It says that Hinata’s been painfully obvious for a long time now, but he’s not sure if he wants to take that step. Doing so means falling into the void with no parachute to stop him from smashing his skull against the ground. He doesn’t wanna risk it all because it’s gonna _hurt_ if he’s wrong. And chances are that he’s completely mistaken.

“Yer killin’ me, Shouyou-kun,” Atsumu sighs into his phone. It’s almost a whisper, like a secret. He hopes he doesn’t hear him; hopes for Hinata’s hazy mind to ignore his words and to keep spewing drunken nonsense.

He’s so, _so wrong_.

There’s a pause in his giggle, an abrupt halt that makes Atsumu’s hairs stand on end. Silence fills the line, crackling with static, and his heart beats uncontrollably inside of his chest, hitting his ribcage as if it’s trying to pop out of its place and run away into the horizon. The seconds freeze over his head, hanging from threads that look like spider-webs, the prophecy of their fall threatening with crushing everything he is and will be underneath the unbearable weight of their deaths.

_“You’re killing me too, but you don’t see me complaining.”_

Atsumu chokes on his own breath and coughs into the inside of his elbow until he’s able to breathe again.

“Send me yer location. I’ll go getcha.”

_So have you got the guts?_

_Been wondering if your heart’s still open and if so I wanna know what time it shuts_

Hinata’s fast asleep in his bed. Atsumu made his best to tuck him under the covers so he wouldn’t get a cold, but his best doesn’t seem to avoid the fact that he's a restless sleeper. He writhes and mumbles under his breath, speaking in a language Atsumu cannot comprehend; it sounds watery and kinda loopy, the tones going up and down over and over again until he finally falls silent and the room is filled only with his peaceful breathing.

He turns on the bed, swings his leg over the covers, and presses them in between his thighs. Atsumu tries his best not to choke on his own saliva but fails miserably with the hopeless desire of being him the one being in between his legs.

“Get a fuckin’ grip,” he scolds himself, stepping out of his bedroom, closing the door shut behind his back.

He knows he won’t be sleeping tonight and the thought alone makes him feel uneasy. While reconsidering his life choices, specifically that one that led him to that exact moment when Hinata’s sleeping on _his_ bed, his scent seeping into _his_ covers and into _his_ pillow, he slides silently to the kitchen to fill the kettle with water. He needs some tea asap. The blue light of the stove illuminates the room with a ghost-like glow, reminding him that whether he sleeps or not, his mind is always filled with thoughts about him.

 _Doesn’t really matter if ya sleep or not_.

_Simmer down and pucker up_

_I’m sorry to interrupt, it’s just I’m constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you_

_I don’t know if you feel the same as I do_

_But we could be together if you wanted to_

Atsumu wonders. Whilst the kettle on the stove starts to whistle softly, he ponders if he really wants to know. There’re some moments when the burning need of knowing is almost unbearable, but at times like these, when he’s standing alone in his kitchen, waiting for the water to boil to make some tea, is when he feels unsure as to what the outcome could be. Hinata is a solar system, and the balance he’s managed to find throughout his life is as fragile as a second. If he steps into the field of stars, planets, supernovas, and black-holes that is Hinata Shouyou’s life, his _own existence_ , he could cause a disaster. The worst thing about everything is that albeit knowing, he still wants to try.

Just a step. A single movement that could change everything for the worse or for the better and he has no way to know other than asking him directly. But Atsumu’s afraid; of course he is when the price to pay would be Hinata’s entire existence tilting on the scale due to the small pebble that Atsumu represents compared to him.

“Atsumu-san?”

_Do I wanna know?_

_If this feeling flows both ways?_

_Sad to see you go_

_Was sort of hoping that you’d stay_

“Ah, Shouyou-kun,” he whispers into the darkness, barely catching Hinata’s frame outlined by the moonlight that seeps through the curtains of the kitchen. “Thought ya were asleep.”

“I was,” Shouyou answers. His voice sounds drowsy and Atsumu can almost see him rubbing his knuckles against his eyes to get rid of the fog that lifts when one tries to shake off the slumber. “The whistle of the kettle woke me up.”

“Ah, shit, sorry,” he apologizes, turning off the stove. The whistle of the kettle subdues gradually with each second passing and the steam that swirls through the air seems to shine underneath the blue light of the moon. “Didn’t think ya’d woke up ‘cause of that.”

Hinata laughs under his breath, the sound raspy and low and all sorts of sinful in the darkness. It’s weird, Atsumu thinks, how light can change things. If he had laughed like that during the day, basking in the golden sunlight, he would probably feel weak on the knees, but still pretty unfazed by the sound. Here, drawn against the soft glow of the moon, Atsumu thinks he’s condemned to lust after him.

He coughs to clear his throat. It feels bone-dry when he swallows, and his tongue feels like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth. There’s a tingle spreading through his nerves, exploding like tiny fireworks threatening to muffle every sound that doesn’t come from within him. It feels weird to be isolated by his own body, so he fights the fog that feels like it’s choking him.

“Ya want some tea? I was makin’ some.”

“That’d be great, thanks.”

Hinata’s voice is still thick with slumber, so much that Atsumu has to swallow back the giggle that crawls up his throat. He can’t see him but can picture him in his head, wearing the wrinkled clothes he was still wearing when Atsumu tucked him under the covers, dishevelled hair, puffy eyes.

Atsumu turns on the lights of the kitchen, cringing when the sudden change of the illumination hurts his retinas. Blinking to get rid of the red stars that dance in front of his vision, he turns towards Hinata to apologize for not having warned him.

And then stops.

He’s rubbing at his eyes, mumbling under his breath something that sounds like “owie”. His hair is as dishevelled as he expected and his clothes are as wrinkled as he remembers them, but he’s only wearing a shirt and his underwear and _goddamn_.

Opening his mouth to speak, to say something that would totally destroy his façade of bad-boy, Atsumu realizes there’re no words to describe the punch to the gut that is to see Hinata dressed like that in front of him, half-way to the kitchen. It’s so domestic he can’t even fathom the impact the image is really having in him and his poor human heart that tries so hard not to be pulled in by Hinata’s gravity centre. It hurts in a bittersweet way because this right here is something he knows he doesn’t deserve, something he shouldn’t be seeing.

“Sit down,” he gulps after a few minutes. The red stars are still dancing in front of his eyes and his head is spinning, but he needs to keep it together. Or at least pretend he’s keeping it together. “I’ll pour ya some tea.”

He does as said, sitting on the couch where Atsumu is supposed to be sleeping. He crisscrosses his legs, yawning into the palm of his hand. While preparing the mugs, Atsumu can feel Hinata’s eyes glued to his back, following his every move.

“Say, Atsumu-san,” he starts. The curiosity in his voice feels raw and pushing, making Atsumu stop in the middle of the motion of pouring the hot water into the mugs. “You could’ve just sent an Uber to get me… why’d you go yourself?”

_I wanted to see ya. I was hoping ya’d spend the night with me._

“I was half-asleep.” The lie weighs in his mouth, bitter and thick. It makes him want to brush his teeth to get rid of the feeling. “Didn’t think of that.”

“I see.”

_Baby we both know_

_That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day_

_Crawling back to you (crawling back to you)_

_Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few (you’ve had a few)_

_‘Cause I always do (‘cause I always do)_

_Maybe I’m too (maybe I’m too busy) busy being yours to fall for somebody new_

_Now I’ve thought it through_

_Crawling back to you_

“See, this is why—” Hnata begins. He clears his throat and Atsumu can’t hold back the need of seeing his face anymore. Placing the pot back on top of the stove, he turns on his heels, looks at him expectantly. “This is why I told you you’re killing me.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You keep doing all these nice things for me— you invited me to dinner after I got accepted in the team, you always worry about me whenever you see I haven’t gotten enough sleep,” he counts, rising a finger with each thing he lists. “You always train over-time with me even though I know you just want to go home and rest… and now _this_. Picking me up at three-thirty in the morning, in the middle of nowhere, because I’m too drunk to even exist? That’s just…”

“That’s what anyone would’ve done,” Atsumu interrupts, noticing a pang of something unknown and hot in the middle of his stomach. It pools towards his groin, pulls downwards like a hook attached to his belly-button. “Yer my teammate, it’s the least I can do for ya.”

The solar system sitting a few feet away from him is looking him right in the face, burning holes in Atsumu’s skull with his stare. There’s a faint blush dusting the constellations of his cheeks, and the eclipse unfolds in front of Atsumu beautifully. It feels like he’s been selected among a sea of people to bear the privilege of seeing this happen live. If he decides he wants to know, if he finally decides to step into the field of stars of Hinata’s life, would this sight be common? Would he witness it happen over and over again?

“I’m trying to say I’m in love with you, but you’re denser than I am.”

“Yer drunk.”

“Sorta. But I’ll still be in love with you tomorrow.”

“Shouyou-kun.”

Atsumu hesitates. He was right: he wasn’t ready for the scenario where Hinata feels the same way as he does. He isn’t ready for this solar system to aim his whole brightness and strength to him because he knows he won’t be able to take it. It feels like he’ll crumble under the weight of Hinata’s full attention; he’s never wanted anyone _like this_ , with such a deep, raw desire to just _make them happy_. He doesn’t really care about his own happiness anymore, and that’s exactly the conclusion he didn’t want to get to.

“If you’re gonna reject me…”

“That’s the thing, I ain’t.”

A single beat. Atsumu counts it while it happens, following Hinata’s motions with the utmost care. He stands up from the couch, paddles over the wooden floor, and enters the kitchen as if the entire world belongs to him. The solar system stops right in front of him, eyes big and bright, and they look like supernovas. Atsumu feels the gravity, feels the pull at every single one of his nerves and feels his molecules aligning in a new configuration only to point right at the man standing in front of him. His entire existence shifts, moves, and changes in a single beat, and Atsumu knows but he’s still unsure of wanting to. His brain betrays him and brings back to life every fantasy that has ever unfolded in his dreams, whispers into his ears if he’s ever yearned for his touch as much as he does now. He knows and he yearns, and the confusion in his brain stops dead in its tracks when Hinata’s thumb grazes lightly the high of his right cheek.

“So?” he asks.

“’m not sure ya’ll remember this tomorrow.”

“Trust me, I will.”

“What if ya don’t?”

Hinata giggles and takes a step forward. He’s all over Atsumu’s personal space now, and the line that separates him from the field of stars of Hinata Shouyou’s life is right there at the tip of his toes. The solar system holds his face in between his hands, his fingers spreading through his cheeks, reaching the line of his undercut. Atsumu can’t take his eyes off of him because the gravity centre is finally wearing him down, pulling him with such strength that he can’t help but give in.

“I won’t forget.”

“Ya still drunk?”

“A tiny bit,” Hinata sighs, standing on his tiptoes. His lips graze over Atsumu’s as if he’s testing the waters and a new sigh leaves his lips when a shiver runs down his spine. “Doesn’t matter. Just kiss me.”

Atsumu can see the exact moment when his willpower crumbles under the order. It’s soft and more persuasion than a real order, but it is one at the end. Hinata seems to rule over his life and everything around him with commands disguised as tiny petitions, disguised as persuasion, but Atsumu knows better. He knows now and knows better than anyone else will ever do because the moment his determination stumbles and falls into nothingness feels like letting go of something that’s been hurting him for ages.

His arms fold around Hinata’s waist and pull him closer until his bodies are pressed flush against each other, every muscle, curve, and line fitting like puzzle pieces. Hinata moans when Atsumu leans against the counter, the marble digging into the small of his back but he doesn’t care. His knees tremble beneath the weight of his body and he needs a flat surface for anchorage so he won’t crumble like his resolve of not letting Hinata’s gravity pull him in. Hinata’s hands snake around his neck and pull him down to join their mouths again, his lips sliding over Atsumu’s with a hunger that can only equal his own. Whimpers and moans are muffled into Atsumu’s mouth, and he isn’t sure if there’re some of those being swallowed by Hinata. It’s almost like he can’t feel his body functioning and when he considers it for a second, he discovers he doesn’t really care about it.

Hinata’s tongue is scalding hot while caressing his and Atsumu melts under the touch. His eagerness makes him think that he wants to devour him, to burn him to ashes with the sun that is his soul, and so Atsumu lets him. He gives in to the gravity centre, steps into the field of stars, and dares to be the pebble that tilts the fragile balance of Hinata’s life. He doesn’t care anymore. Why would he?

Why would he when Hinata is moaning against him, pressing himself into Atsumu as if he wants to fuse their bodies beyond existence itself?

For a moment, while the kiss deepens and Atsumu’s hands find the edge of his shirt, he feels like a solar system himself. They crash against each other, the suns that mark the center of their lives colliding and imploding until they’re completely fused. They swirl and turn over the axis of the metaphor and there’re new things flourishing all around them and across the universe they seem to form together.

Atsumu pants against Hinata’s mouth and opens his eyes to find his looking directly into his soul. The supernovas aren’t supernovas anymore; they’re a sky full of stars and Atsumu wonders how is it possible for Hinata to be an entire solar system in himself and still hold constellations not only on his skin but in his eyes too. Maybe he’s not just a solar system but the entire universe, and he’s been in the wrong this whole time.

“How could I forget _this_?” Hinata demands, leaning in for another kiss that steals Atsumu’s breath away. He peppers butterfly kisses all over his lower lip and follows the line of his mouth until he finds his jaw. “I’ve wanted this for _ages_.”

He sounds so matter-of-factly that Atsumu doesn’t dare to question his words. He only dives in for a new kiss, bites his lower lip, and finally presses his hands against the small of Hinata’s back. Spreading his fingers over the skin, he tries to memorize the shape of the muscles that tense underneath his touch, shifting and trembling very much like his own molecules did when he finally gave in to his gravity’s pull.

“I’m sorry for telling you like this,” Hinata apologizes in between the kiss, gasping when Atsumu’s nails leave traces of fire on his skin that start from the blade of his shoulders and find their end on the small of his back. “I just— _ah_ , I thought I’d be braver with a few drinks on me…”

“What?” Atsumu mumbles, writhing when Hinata’s fingers _pull_ at the thin, shorter hair of his nape. “Ya thought five am was a good time for a love confession?”

“There’re… things that sound better in the dark.”

Atsumu laughs, out of breath and raspy. He feels the shiver that goes down Hinata’s spine beneath his own hands.

“Turn off the lights, then.”

There’re a lot of things Atsumu wants to say, and Hinata’s right: some of them sound better in the dark while being pulled in, with the support of the knowledge he has yearned for ever since they found each other again.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked it! If ya did, drop your kudos and comments. They make me very happy ♥
> 
> Also, come scream at me in Twitter! @Xhiiluh


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